


Heart of the Tower

by FireEye



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 17:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: History would call them Fiends.  Golbez called them family.





	Heart of the Tower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lassarina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassarina/gifts).

Golbez sat, silently seething. In the past, the lich would have mended his body. Barbariccia would have soothed his spirit. Cagnazzo would have regaled him with a tall tale to take his mind off things.

It now fell to Rubicante, and though he did his best, it was little enough. The flesh and bone of the master’s severed hand, fingers still clutched tightly around the Dark Crystal of Fire, knit back together with that of his wrist. That hand would always be weak, but then it was an old injury – the King of Baron had not succumbed easily.

A spark resembling life returned to the fingers as Rubicante finished his work. Passing the Crystal from his dead hand to his other, Golbez flexed them. Task having been accomplished, the Fiend stepped back and bowed.

Some of the anger in Golbez’ expression ebbed as the Crystal itself caught his eye, and he peered into its faceted depths. Whatever it was he saw there, it still left him sulking like a petulant child.

They’d won the day.

Barely.

Golbez let his head drop, the Crystal’s warm surface pressed to his forehead.

“Cecil.”

The name on his tongue held nothing but contempt. 

“Who is he to stand against us?” he further demanded of an otherwise empty throne room, “Against _me_?”

Rising to his feet, Golbez strode past his most stalwart retainer, and Rubicante crossed his arms.

“It was a _mistake_ to let the Summoner live.”

And mistake none could have predicted. Cagnazzo had told them with no uncertainty that the girl had been devoured by a beast from the deep, as extracted by his thrall from Fabul. Who had also shown his face in Giott’s castle.

“_Kain_. I should never have let Barbariccia keep him... I should destroy his feeble mind right now.”

“Would it not be wiser to twist him in her image, Master?” Rubicante asked.

Golbez whirled on him. The movement gave his cape a theatrical flair of life; one that Barbariccia would have appreciated.

“No. It is a blessing he is most undeserving of,” he stated. “Why should I gift him with the Crystal’s grace?”

Why, indeed.

In his other life, Rubicante would have balked at the idea. Even now, it left a bitter taste on his charred lips. For all that he had never fully gotten along with Cagnazzo, and it could be said he tolerated Scarmiglione at best, the Fiend of Wind had been his friend. But, for all their success, Cecil was often only a step behind them, and to say their loyal ranks were now thin was an understatement.

“I should make him stab his so-called _brother_ in his sleep.” Turning again for the door, Golbez snarled, “His _precious_ little white witch, too.”

“Such an act would be unworthy of you,” Rubicante reminded him, to no reply. He followed after as Golbez stepped out into the hall. As they traversed the lower depths, the denizens of the tower cowered before his majesty, and the beasts and the constructs fled to avoid them.

Throwing mindless monsters at the problem wasn’t going to make the nations bow to their rightful rule without contempt. Without practicality, they would never achieve Golbez’ dream. And without honor, they would be undeserving of it.

A delicate balance, indeed.

Two fire-hardened underworld goblins that Golbez had set to guard the Crystal Chamber and sound the alarm should any – friend or foe – approach unbidden scurried aside. Golbez paid them no mind, and Rubicante stepped forth to push open the doors. Golbez swept through before him, and he lingered only long enough to pull them shut again behind.

An aura of peace washed over them.

The Crystal Chamber was a sanctuary within the walls of Babil.

It had been built into the tower by those before their time, suspended between heaven and earth. Although none of them had been able to guess how many generations ago, Golbez had led them to it, and it seemed to have been waiting for them.

For _him_.

It was made for them, he said – a thing of Mysidian prophecy. When the Light and the Dark had been gathered together, the way to Paradise would open and blessing would befall the Earth.

Wielding forces beyond any Rubicante had known within his mortal lifetime, Golbez had shaped their bodies into vessels worthy of such a power.

Now three of them were dead.

Worse yet, _unavenged_.

While Golbez set the Dark Crystal of Fire upon its Altar, Rubicante wandered. His strides took him to the Altar of Wind, and he caressed the Crystal thereupon with his fingers – long, _inhuman_ fingers, scarred with fire and tipped with obsidian talons.

He turned away again, striding back to rejoin Golbez in the center of the chamber, where an otherworldly energy flowed strongest. Golbez pulled his gauntlets free, and inspected his dead hand. It was paler than the other, its hue a sickly blue.

“_I_ will destroy Cecil for you, Master,” Rubicant swore, within the beating heart of all they were, “If that is your wish.”

There was a sudden chill, as though the Crystal Chamber itself seemed to resent such an ambition. Golbez’ gaze was torn towards him, a child-like fear lurking within the depths of his eyes.

“No!” he cried, too abruptly to account for. “No... I can’t-...”

Rubicante deferred, averting his gaze. Golbez hissed a breath through his teeth.

“The nation of Eblan insults us.”

The fiend rose up. He felt the old wound, only as a crackle of fire beneath his skin. “Eblan.”

“I want their kingdom and their lands scorched to the ground,” Golbez said. “I know for you it’s personal... Make it as painful as you like.”

Bowing, Rubicante vowed, “I will see it done, Master Golbez.”

He turned to take his leave, but for Golbez’ voice causing him pause. No matter how twisted his body or his mind, he still remembered that wavering uncertainty in a young man, scarcely more than a child.

“Please understand, old friend. Cecil has survived past all rhyme and reason. I can’t... take the risk, not when there’s still so much for us to do.”

Rubicante half-turned to regard him. Then his eyes drifted to the Altars surrounding them.

He bowed to the Altar of Wind.

“They’re still here,” Golbez said quietly. “If I can gain the final Crystal, I can restore them.”

Smiling faintly, Rubicante reminded him, “_When_, Master.”

Prophecy was on their side, was it not?

**Author's Note:**

> In all things, Balance: I've always presumed the Fiends were humans once, with the potential for heroism that just got twisted to more nefarious ends. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this bit of the Devil's perspective of events, so to speak. :D


End file.
